


Say Nothing (to Confess)

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Prompt List #1 [15]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Forgiveness, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: 5. “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything”





	Say Nothing (to Confess)

**Author's Note:**

> In which Edward shoots Oswald, and has a change of heart. (it was supposed to be funny, like: -bang- ‘oh shit wait i changed my mind’ but uhhhhh that didn’t really happen)

_When I met you, you were a nervous, jittery loser._

_You were nothing. I created Edward Nygma._

_I am the only one in the world who truly sees you as you are._

_Who you can still become._

_You can’t do this._

_Ed, are you listening to me?_

“I’m listening,” Edward said, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Was this all Oswald thought of him? That he’d been nothing until Oswald had come into his life? 

Or did he mean that he had seen Edward’s potential, that he understood him in a way no one else ever had…

Edward shook the thought loose. It didn’t matter now. He couldn’t focus on that; what needed his undivided attention was the task at hand. Justice. Vengeance. Pulling the trigger.

“Well?” Oswald said, his voice cracking. “Yell, scream, _say something_ … anything.” Edward steeled himself, hardened his heart to Oswald’s pleas. No one had answered Isabella’s. 

“I loved her, Oswald,” Edward said at last. “And you killed her.” _Concentrate,_ _squeeze the trigger._

After the shot was fired, Edward experienced something like tunnel vision. He gripped the front of Oswald’s shirt, crimson spilling into the space between them through Oswald’s fingers. Stepping forward, he pushed Oswald off the pier. He never heard the sound Oswald made crashing into the water, only swallowed as he watched him slowly descend into the deep, red billowing around him. 

He’d done it. Isabella was avenged. Edward had proved that he wasn’t a man who could be crossed, that he wasn’t some weak-willed boy who would let people walk all over him. Not his parents, not his coworkers, not even The Penguin…

So why did this victory feel so empty?

Edward watched the place where Oswald was steadily disappearing. The reality of what he had done began to sink in. He’d just shot the best friend he’d ever had. He was never going to see Oswald again. Oswald’s words came back to him, his ears still ringing from the gunshot: _I am the only one in the world who truly sees you as you are. Who you can still become._

He took a breath, finally allowing himself to let the meaning of Oswald’s last words sink in. Oswald knew him in a way no one else ever had… _loved_ him in a way no one ever had. And he’d just thrown that away… for what? To prove a point? Oswald had learned his lesson, that much was certain. He’d even proved that he could change. As for his own part, Edward had stood his ground. He hadn’t bowed or broken, he’d gone through with the deed. He hadn’t let Oswald talk his way out of it. He was the victor.

Why did Oswald need to die?

 _Isabella._ Of course. Yes. But Isabella was dead, and Oswald was still alive. Oswald _loved_ him. He loved him, and he’d shown that he could change. If Edward was being honest, it seemed he’d _already_ changed. 

What had he done?

Regret hit him like a fist to the stomach; a sudden nausea and anxiety overtook him. 

He’d made a mistake. He couldn’t let Oswald die, not when it wasn’t necessary. Not when there was an alternative where things could be different. 

“ _Oh dear_.” 

He did the only thing he could do.  

Edward laid his gun and his glasses down and dove headfirst into the water.

He was not a strong swimmer. He wasn’t a strong anything. But he knew where the current was moving, and he knew the proper stroke for a rescue. When he finally spotted a pale blur in the water and his fingers closed around cold skin, he very nearly inhaled water in his relief. He kicked to the surface, turning Oswald so his back was to Edward’s front as Edward worked to keep his face above water level. 

Oswald coughed up water and gasped for air, and Edward would have sobbed if it wasn’t vital that he not waste a moment. He dragged Oswald through the water to the steps on the side of the pier, moving until he was as high as he could get, the steps pressing into his back. He pushed Oswald off himself so that he could maneuver, sitting him halfway in the water on the concrete stairs. Pulling the key to Oswald’s handcuffs from his pocket, he unlocked them and let them fall somewhere along with the key, standing on the narrow steps and pulling Oswald’s arm around his shoulders. They made it up the steps, and once Oswald was completely out of the water Edward sat him down. 

“I’ll be right back.” He ran and collected the gun and his glasses, sprinting back to Oswald. Grabbing Oswald’s wrist, he heaved him up, pulling Oswald’s arm around his shoulders and helping him to his feet. Edward was astonished that Oswald was still conscious, but then again, Oswald had always been very strong. 

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Oswald laughed, coughing up water and faltering in his steps. “Although I must say, I wish you had a bit sooner.” They were almost to the car when a voice interrupted.

“Uh, is he okay?” Edward turned, pointing his gun at the girl hovering nearby using the arm he had behind Oswald’s back. “Woah! Relax. What happened to him?”

“It’s none of your concern,” Edward said. Having deemed her a nonthreat, Edward opened the back door and helped Oswald inside.

“Where are you going to take him?” Edward paused. Where indeed. They could go into an emergency room, but then Oswald’s care would be out of his hands. He had supplies in the manor, but that was far from here, and Oswald was bleeding heavily. “I have a place. I could help.”

“How could you help us?” Edward sneered. He needed to get going, this was only delaying him.

“I can take care of him while you drive. And if you come back to my place, I’ve got all kinds of medical supplies.” Edward considered her offer. 

“Where do you live?”

As it turned out, she lived father than Gotham General but closer than the manor. That settled it. Edward peered up at what she was doing in the rearview from time to time, speeding through the city and into the suburbs while she gave him directions. Once there, the girl helping him carry Oswald into the house and up onto a marble dining table. They unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, and then went to work.

***

It was after they had cleaned Oswald up and dressed him in more comfortable clothes that Edward asked the girl her name. He was surprised to find that the Ivy Pepper he’d heard of two years ago was… all grow up. The GCPD had minimal contact with her after her father’s shooting, but Edward was aware there was a wife and a daughter. He recalled with perfect clarity his reaction to reading the breaking news article. Within it was a small section detailing Mario Pepper’s abuse of his family, which had made Edward nod in satisfaction and skip to the crossword. Good riddance.

Ivy had put Oswald on a drip full of some concoction, claiming it would help him heal following their amateur surgery. Edward had quizzed her extensively on the contents and determined that it would only be beneficial before allowing her to administer it. What followed was a conversation considering her… rapid maturation. Edward was fascinated by the advanced aging that Ivy had apparently undergone, questioning her extensively on the changes she’d noticed to her body. One thing led to another, and they were deep into a conversation on holistic medicine when Oswald began to stir. 

“I’ll make him some tea and let you guys talk,” Ivy said, surprising Edward with her tact. She’d been extremely loud and excitable during their various conversations on rare orchids and psychedelic drugs, and he’d already formed a contingency plan to get her out of the room and give Oswald space to breathe when he awoke. 

“I appreciate that,” Edward said. Ivy smiled in return, practically skipping though the door.

“Ed?” Oswald called hoarsely, stirring against the pillows. Edward hurried over, putting his hands on Oswald’s shoulders to keep him from trying to get up. 

“Try not to move around too much,” Edward said gently, pressing him back and stilling his movements. “I don’t want you to tear your stitches.”

“Where are we?” he asked, peering around the plant-filled room. 

“Ivy Pepper appropriated this house from the previous owners. We’re about ten minutes from the city, another ten from the manor,” Edward explained. 

“Appropriated?” Oswald asked.

“They’re dead,” Edward told him. “She has many talents, it would appear.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Ivy said, coming into the room with a mug. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

“That’s a shame,” Edward said, “You’re quite brilliant, you know.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” Ivy said, placing the tea on the side table. She shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her head.

“And I wasn’t being facetious,” Edward said, taking the mug and handing it to Oswald. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Ivy admitted.

“It means he was being serious when he complimented you,” Oswald said, observing the contents of the mug warily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Ivy chirped. “I’ve going to go make another bag for you, maybe with something extra for the pain…”

“That would be great,” Oswald said, wincing. He still hadn’t touched the tea. Ivy nodded and flounced out of the room again.

“What is this?” Oswald hissed, passing the tea to him. Edward didn’t take it, covering Oswald’s hands and pushing it back towards him.

“You can trust it,” Edward said. “Just have some.” Oswald scowled and swallowed it down in its entirety in several large gulps. 

“That was foul,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “What am I wearing?”

“Some clean clothes I found in the house,” Edward said. A warm sweater and flannel pajama bottoms. “I’m afraid I couldn’t salvage your suit.” His own was bloodied beyond saving, and he’d changed into dry clothing as well. 

“I don’t care about the suit,” Oswald said, leaning over to put the mug back on the table. Edward sighed and held him back against the pillows again.

“Don’t twist or lean so far,” he said, taking the mug from him and placing it aside. “I forgot what a terrible patient you make.”

“You’ve always made a wonderful nurse,” Oswald said. Edward glanced away, shame churning in his stomach. 

“Oswald, I’m the reason—”

“Don’t,” Oswald said. “You’re the reason I’m alive.”

“I shot you—”

“And I would have done the same thing in your situation,” Oswald said, grabbing his wrist. “You’re right to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry anymore,” Edward said. 

“It would be understandable if you were,” Oswald said, tightening his hold when Edward didn’t pull away. “I know I would be. What I did… If I were you, I would have left me to die.”

“I couldn’t,” Edward whispered. “You mean too much to me.” Oswald let go of his wrist, eyes widening. 

“What do you mean?” he whispered. What Edward had done to Oswald had been more than fair, and letting him die would absolutely have been justified. But…

“I missed you the instant I thought you were gone,” Edward said, taking hold of his hand. “You’re my best friend, and I— I care about you, Oswald.” Oswald squeezed his hand and tugged him closer, hugging Edward awkwardly, their linked fingers trapped between them.

“I love you,” Oswald said. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Can we… can we just move past this? That’s all I want.” Edward nodded against his shoulder, releasing a shaky breath.

“I’d like that,” he said. 

“You guys are so cute,” Ivy said. “How long have you been together?” Edward jerked away, the two of them stuttering responses.

“We’re not—”

“He’s not—”

“It’s okay,” Ivy said. “You don’t have to explain. So… how did you get shot?” Edward bit his thumb and glanced at Oswald. It was up to him whether anyone found out about it. Ivy began changing the IV bag out for a darker green one.

“It was an accident,” he told her, his level voice a stark contrast to his stuttering response about their relationship. “I was teaching Edward how to shoot a gun.”

“Right…” she said, glancing between them.

“I’m a terrible shot,” Edward said, laughing nervously. “I even managed not to hit anything vital.” Ivy laughed along with him, and then Oswald joined in, wincing as he doubled over. 

“You really are terrible,” he said, cackling madly. “Oh, it hurts to laugh.”

“Then stop it,” Edward scolded, sitting on the bed beside him. “It’s not _that_ funny.”

“It _is_ ,” Oswald insisted, wheezing slightly. Edward kissed him.

When he pulled away, Oswald was apparently struck dumb. Good. That way, he wouldn’t tear anything laughing. 

“Aw, you guys really are the cutest,” Ivy cooed again. “Do either of you want anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Edward glared at Oswald. He desperately wanted Ivy to stay in the room, otherwise he’d have to explain why he kissed Oswald. 

“Um… well I’m hungry, so I’m gonna go make something. Did you want to help, Eddie?”

“Yes, I’d—”

“No,” Oswald firmly stated. Ivy frowned. 

“Okay, clearly you guys have some stuff to talk about so… I’m gonna go.” She fled the room, leaving Edward to face the music. _Damn_. 

“What was that?” Oswald demanded. Edward shrugged and stared down at the blanket. “Is this just part of another game? Did you save me just so you could torment me again by leading me to believe you could ever return my feelings? You decided that killing me wasn’t enough, is that it? You want to lead me on and break my heart even more thoroughly, is that what—”

Edward kissed him into silence again, lingering a moment longer.

“It’s not a game,” he whispered. 

“Than what is it?” Oswald said, clearly trying to keep his tone harsh despite his quivering bottom lip and the tears welling in his eyes. Edward knew he was playing with something delicate here, that the real challenge was not in breaking it, but in keeping it whole. 

“I am a sacrament of penance, though I may sometimes be false. I am given to priests and police alike, and uttered by both lovers and sinners. What am I?”

“Just tell me,” Oswald begged, taking hold of Edward’s hands. His grip was so hard it was painful, but Edward didn’t mind it. He decided that Oswald had suffered long enough.

“It’s a confession,” Edward said. “That’s what this,” he kissed him again, “is.”

“You…” Oswald shook his head, as though he was dislodging cobwebs. “You lo—”

“Don’t say it,” Edward hastily interrupted. “Just… not yet. It’s too soon.”

“Okay,” Oswald whispered. “That’s… that’s fine.” Edward nodded, diverting his focus to playing with a corner of the bedsheet.

“Would you…” Oswald hesitantly began, Edward’s eyes immediately snapping up to give him his attention. “Would you mind confessing again?” Edward smiled, immediately recognizing the underlying meaning of Oswald’s question. That was his favorite kind of meaning, after all. He leaned in for another kiss, as requested.  

“I’d be happy to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Oswald would have been nicer to Ivy if the hurt from Edward wasn't fresh. Please comment if you enjoyed this, I've been playing with the idea for a while <3 oh, and I wrote the riddle myself. How did it read? Did you get it? Did it make sense?


End file.
